


Devil of a Job

by DeskGirl



Series: RotG Undercover Noir AU [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Noir, Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Serial Killer, Undercover AU, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: Kozmotis is presented with a seemingly impossible task, but with the help of the devil, he might pull it off.Undercover Noir AU: Kozmotis Pitchiner is an undercover DEA agent working with notorious serial killer Jack Frost to bring down a major drug ring.Sequel toFace to Face With the Devil.





	Devil of a Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KS_Claw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_Claw/gifts).



> I hadn't planned on writing more for this AU, but KS and I share a birthday, and I had to do something to celebrate. Who doesn't like a little murder?
> 
> Don't forget to read [Face to Face With the Devil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847944) first.

     Kozmotis let himself into his darkened apartment. He slid the deadbolt into place and slumped against the door with a sigh of exhaustion. When he’d agreed to work this undercover mission, he’d had no idea what the job would require—how drained it would leave him each day. He felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere. He had no idea where the Dream Dust was being made or how it was being moved. Sandman was very careful what he let his lackey “Pitch Black” see or know about the Man in the Moon’s operations. And now this meeting… He made his way to the kitchen without bothering to turn on the lights. He didn’t feel hungry, but he knew he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

     “You’re finally back,” a voice said from the dark.

     Kozmotis threw himself backwards and felt his hip connect with the counter. Then he recognized the voice. He wished he didn’t; it had begun to haunt him in his sleep lately.

      “You’re not supposed to be here, Jack. You’ll blow my cover,” Kozmotis said. He reached over to turn on the light above the kitchen sink.

      Jack Frost sat at the breakfast bar, the infamous serial killer with the face of a child. When Kozmotis met him several months ago, at that packing building by the docks, he’d thought he was just a boy. There was an innocence to his face despite the blood coating his hands and the terrible things that came out of his mouth. But Kozmotis knew better now: he was too intelligent, too world-weary. He was no child.

      Jack was wearing medical gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints in the apartment, and he was playing with one of the larger kitchen knives from the knife block Kozmotis kept by the stove. He smiled and set it down when he saw Kozmotis tense up.

      “Don’t worry, officer, I’m not here to kill you. You went to see my friend Sandy today, didn’t you?”

      Kozmotis nodded.

      “What did he want?”

      “He wants me to kill you,” Kozmotis said. “Man in the Moon’s tasked him with making you disappear, and he gave the job to me.”

      Jack looked practically delighted by the news. “Interesting. Either Sandy has more faith in your abilities than we realized, or he’s just that desperate. Perhaps he doesn’t think you’ll succeed at all; you’re just bait for a hook. To your credit, though, you did a great job the other week. With that fire? You have a real talent for arson, officer. It’s too bad you lack the passion for the career. I can’t imagine Sandy would just throw you away. Maybe it was Moon’s order to put you on the job, then. You know, like a test. Let’s hope so. Could mean good things for you.”

      “You seem to be taking this all rather well,” Kozmotis said. “But what am I supposed to do?”

      Jack became very still as he thought about it, and his words were weighted when he spoke: “You could always try to kill me. I wouldn’t hold it against you, although I think we both know how it would end.”

      Kozmotis glanced down at the knife in front of Jack, then shook his head. “Come on, Jack, you agreed to help me because you think I’m smart. I’m not going to make a dumb move like that. Right now, you’re the only support I have. I’ve got no contacts in law enforcement because it’d be too risky. I need your intel and your protection. I don’t stand a chance otherwise. Whatever goes down between us after this mission is over, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

      “I look forward to it,” Jack said.

      Kozmotis felt a shiver run up his spine. Jack really did sound like he was excited by the notion. “In the meantime, I have to find some way to fake your death well enough to convince Sandman and the Man in the Moon. And they’re both scrutinizing crime lords who’ve dealt with plenty of cheats, liars, and narcs. I’m a DEA agent, not James Bond.” Kozmotis scrubbed at his face with a hand. He felt stretched thin.

      “I don’t see why you’re so concerned,” Jack said.

      Kozmotis gave him an incredulous look.

      Jack stood on the bar stool, climbed up to sit on the breakfast bar, and then swung his legs over so he could face Kozmotis. He was wearing sneakers that didn’t look to be his style or size. They likely served the same purpose as his gloves. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, because I’m going to handle this. I’ve always wanted to fake my own death. It’s so cloak and dagger. Plus there’s nothing more interesting than our own mortality, don’t you think? How much we can endure and how easily we can die in turns. And how history forgets some of us but makes immortals of others.”

      Jack looked at Kozmotis conspiratorially. “No one is ever going to forget me. I’ve made sure of it.”

      “I can think of a few people who would prefer to forget you.”

      “Oh? Like you?” Jack teased.

      “I meant like the Man in the Moon.”

      “That’s the best part, don’t you see? I’ve been nipping at Moon’s nose lately, so he’s been nipping at my heels. If he thinks I’m dead, he’ll stop worrying about me, and he’ll drop his guard, which is good for the both of us. Moon thinks he’s the big dog in the neighborhood. Likes to bark and snap at me, but he doesn’t realize he’s baring his teeth at a wolf. By the time he realizes his mistake, I’m gonna have my fangs in his neck.

      “Now, you just leave my death to me. I’ll handle all the details. In a couple of days, you’ll receive a call from me with specific instructions. Do everything I say to the letter, and don’t waste my time with questions, understand?”

      Kozmotis hesitated, then nodded.

      “Good.” Jack grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, and hopped off the counter.

    “Oh, you’re running low on milk,” Jack said before he stuck the apple in his mouth, undid the door lock, and let himself out.

    Jack’s plan, when he finally called to tell Kozmotis about it, was rather clever. If grotesque. Jack gave him a list of materials to acquire and the best way to obtain them without leaving a trail for the police to follow. The list included a shovel.

    Kozmotis called Sandman when the job was done, and they arranged to meet in a parking lot with minimum security that evening. Kozmotis had expected a limo or something. Instead, the car that drove up and parked beside him was a sleek 1930s Bugatti 4-seater all in black with gold trim and tinted windows. A classic luxury car.

    Kozmotis got out of his vehicle and walked over. A window rolled down to reveal one of Sandman’s assistants. He sat on the far side and used the assistant as a mouthpiece, like always.

    “Hello Pitch. I hear you have good news for me,” the assistant said. They wore gold eyeshadow that made their eyes seem dark and delicate, and matching gold lipstick.

    Kozmotis reached into his jacket slowly and withdrew a packet of photos. “Proof’s all there, including the negatives.” He handed it over to the assistant who opened the packet and handed the individual photos over to Sandman.

    Kozmotis remembered his shock when Jack had shown him the pressurized, stainless steel vat. “It’s for beer,” Jack had explained. “Well, not today it isn’t. Today it’ll be for sodium hydroxide. You know what sodium hydroxide does, right? You’re DEA. You know what cartels like to do with bodies. I hope you remembered that disposable camera I asked for.”

    Sandman flipped through the photos. A before photo of Jack Frost laying on cold, cracked cement. His face was blank, his eyes wide and pale as ice. He was much more animated in the next photo: the one of him trying to climb out of the vat with his hands tied while a clear liquid was poured on top of him. It was just hot water. Jack had been pleased when he saw the steam show up in the photos. “It has to look like it’s boiling hot. Lye baths take forever to dissolve bodies if the liquid isn’t heated properly.”

    The photo after that was far more progressed. That photo had real sodium hydroxide and a real dead body, although it wasn’t Jack’s, and it wasn’t much of a body anymore. Kozmotis had been understandably upset about the body. After all, he didn’t know how Jack had gotten it, and Jack wouldn’t say. He just smiled. Explained that it was important that the body be the same build and weight and height, and such things weren’t easy to find. “He’s already dead. You can’t do much about it now,” Jack had pointed out before having Kozmotis help him lift it into the vat.

    The next photo was in a new location: somewhere with hills and grass and nothing much else in sight. Kozmotis and Jack had drained the vat into stainless steel barrels and driven them out of the city where Kozmotis had been put to work digging a pit deep enough to pour all the evidence. It had taken a long time for everything to seep down into the ground. Fine bits of bone had been left behind. Kozmotis had broken them up with the blade of his shovel before filling the pit in. But not before he took the last photo.

    “This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Kozmotis had said. “If I was going to be involved in someone’s murder,  I should have just killed you for real.”

    “Oh come now,” Jack had replied, “I’m sure you’ll do plenty of equally horrible things in the future. Give yourself some credit! And besides, if it eases your conscience, keeping me alive keeps you alive, and the longer you live, the more people you may save down the road. Which, frankly, feels like a bit of a Sisyphus and the boulder deal to me, but you go ahead and waste your short life however you want.”

    The assistant leaned towards Sandman as he spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m impressed,” Sandman’s assistant said. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Pitch. I assume you were careful about getting and disposing of everything you used?”

    “Meticulous,” Kozmotis said. “If you could, please, apologize to Miss Toothiana for me in advance. I’m willing to guess she’ll be disappointed I didn’t save any of his teeth, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any DNA evidence left behind.”

    Sandman raised a curious eyebrow as to what that meant, so Kozmotis elaborated, “People talk. Even people who are good at keeping quiet. I know that she had some sort of history with Jack Frost, and she showed me her trophy jewelry when you sent me to deliver some information about transport dates to her office.”

    Sandman whispered to his assistant, and they spoke: “I don’t approve of Toothiana’s hobby. Teeth are as good as bodies if the police find her collection. You did the right thing.” A pause as Sandman handed the photos back to the assistant to reseal in the envelope. “I’m impressed, Pitch. I’m sure the Man in the Moon will be, too. I’ll send this along to him. He’ll be glad to know that little thorn in his side is gone. By the time you get home, you’ll find payment for the job in your personal account. Keep your phone on hand at all times: you might receive an important call soon. This was big, Pitch. I’m proud of you.”

    The assistant bowed their head slightly and rolled the window up, signifying the end of the conversation. Then the Bugatti reversed and pulled away, leaving Kozmotis to stand in the dark of the parking lot alone. He looked out at the congested downtown streets, the old hotels with their classical architecture standing beside sleek new business buildings, and then he looked up. The moon was barely a sliver, like an eye cracked open to peek through its eyelashes coyly at the world, spying on all the little people down below. Kozmotis felt like it was looking right through him. He felt small and thin and transparent. He realized with a sudden clarity that he might make it out of this alive in the end, but he wouldn’t be the same person when he did. He was already changing. Already someone different. And there was no going back now.


End file.
